


Reading Poetry

by CatrionaMac



Series: Alternate Universe Shorts [3]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatrionaMac/pseuds/CatrionaMac
Summary: Joel reads to Ellie before bed.





	Reading Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This work depicts a possible romantic relationship between two adult fictional characters with a large age gap. Do not continue to read if you are disturbed by that kind of thing. There is a mention of suicide in this work in relation to the ending of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet.

_"Two houses, both alike in dignity,  
_ _In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,"_

“Where the fuck is Verona, Joel?”  Ellie yawned and stretched out on the sofa, wiggling her bare toes.  

“Uh...somewhere in Italy, I think.” He squinted down at the book and found his place again.

 _"From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,_  
_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.  
_ _From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,"_

“Loins? Oooh! Loins sound promising.”

“Ellie, do you want me to read this or not? Because Shakespeare ain’t really my thing.”

To be honest, it wasn’t really her thing either, but it had been a long day and she’d just grabbed the first book on the shelf without even looking at what it was. She and Riley had tried to puzzle their way through a dogeared copy of Hamlet once, for about five minutes. What the hell this book was even doing in their house was a total mystery to her. But there was something about hearing the words in Joel’s deep rumbling voice, soft with his Texas drawl, that made her want to hear more.

“Okay, okay,” she grumbled. She hoped she hadn’t pushed him too far. Joel was acting awfully touchy these days, and she didn’t know why. But nightly reading time was something they’d started doing a few months after they’d come to Jackson--kind of a peace offering after they’d finally had it out about Salt Lake City--and now, three years on, it was something Ellie looked forward to every night. Since she’d turned eighteen Joel had started grumbling that she was too old to need bedtime stories, and every time he said it she felt a stab of panic. These were the only times she really had him all to herself anymore, and she didn’t want to be too old for that. She pulled her fingers across her lips in a zipping motion. _See, Joel? My lips are sealed._

Joel grunted as he shifted in his chair and held the book close to the kerosene lantern again.

 _"From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,_  
_A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their lives;_ __  
_Whose misadventured piteous overthrows_  
_Do with their death bury their parents’ strife."_

As Joel’s voice rose and fell with the cadence of the poetry, Ellie thought about her day and tried to suppress another yawn. She’d started out with a duty shift at the wall, and then she’d joined Joel on a trip outside to hunt for game, where they’d gotten three squirrels and two scrawny rabbits. This was an off-duty hunting trip, so they’d kept their catch instead of bringing it in to the central commissary, and Joel had fried up the squirrels in a pan with the last of the late summer tomatoes from their garden, making something he called a fracassee. Or maybe it was a fricassee, she couldn’t remember. She tended to ruin anything that came in contact with a stove, so Joel usually did most of the cooking in the house.

She knew what _Romeo and Juliet_ was about, of course. She’d come across a comic book version of the story on the pitifully understocked classics shelf in her military prep school library, sandwiched between _Catcher in the Rye_ (a book she’d found both irritating and baffling by turns) and _Dracula_ (which had been awesome in every possible way). She and Riley had both been taken with the “star-crossed lovers” and the swordfights, although they’d argued about the double suicide at the end; Riley had found it all incredibly romantic, while to Ellie the idea of killing yourself because someone you loved had died seemed like a stupidly drastic option.

“That’s just because you’ve never been in love with anyone,” Riley had said, her face smug.

 _I have too, Riley,_ Ellie had thought. _I am. You just don’t know it._ She’d answered in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, like you have?”

Riley had laughed that reckless laugh of hers and said, “You know it. I fall in love all the time. If Ryan Gallagher doesn’t notice me before the end of the week, I swear I’ll _die_.” She’d made a swooning motion, holding her hand to her forehead, and tipped herself off her bed right onto the floor.

Ellie had ignored the pang of jealousy she felt every time Riley talked about her latest crush and tackled her friend. “Riley and Ryan, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” she sang, tickling Riley until she shrieked.

“Oh, that is IT, you little shit,” Riley had panted before flipping Ellie over onto her back and coming after her with wiggling fingers that made Ellie squeal in delight. They’d been so intent on tickling each other that they’d missed the call for lights out, and they’d both gotten demerits from the floor warden.

Ellie shifted on the couch again, feeling suddenly warm from the memory of Riley’s smooth, compact body holding her down and touching her so intimately.

“You all right, kiddo? You’re lookin’ a little flushed. You ain’t gettin’ sick, are you?” Joel had stopped reading and was giving her a concerned look.

Ellie felt her cheeks burn. “No! It’s just fucking hot in here, okay?” Shit. She was horny. That had been happening a lot lately, and she was starting to think there might be something wrong with her. But the last thing she wanted to do was have the sex talk with Joel. There were certain things they did not discuss.

He furrowed his brow. It was a cool autumn evening, and he was wearing a warm flannel shirt to ward off the chill. “Have you even been listening to this?”

Ellie’s mind raced. She hadn’t, in fact, been listening very closely, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to stop. She thought back to the comic book she’d read and said, “Of course! The two families have a big fucking street brawl, then the prince comes and says he’ll execute the next person who gets in a fight, and then Romeo bitches about the girl he’s in love with, and then Juliet’s dad’s all excited about the party he’s about to have, and Romeo decides to crash it.” She was pretty sure that was where Joel had left off.

He raised one skeptical eyebrow, but went back to reading.

I like the way his voice rumbles in his chest, she thought. It kind of fills the room up. Ellie yawned again. She needed to stay awake so she could hear him read that balcony scene. That was kind of hot. There was that one line in it...what was it? Something about the sea...love as deep as the sea? For some reason the thought of Joel saying those words made her body feel heavy and warm. Her eyes drooped once. Twice.

* * *

Crowds of smiling people moved around her, swirling in a stilted kind of dance. She spun in place to the music, and her skirts swished around her ankles. Wait a minute. Skirts? Was she wearing a fucking _dress_ ? She looked down at herself in amazement to see the mass of floaty white fabric that fell to her feet from a high waistband embroidered with silver thread. She had time to think, _How do I run in this thing?_ before a warm hand folded around her outstretched fingers and twirled her back into the dance.

The music swelled to a crescendo as the line of couples into which she’d been pulled came together and split apart, her feet following the pattern even while she knew she’d never done anything like this before. And across from her, wearing a green and silver doublet and hose, and moving in the dance like he’d been born doing it, was her partner.

Joel.

What the actual fuck?

Ellie’s head swam and she stumbled a little in the soft slippers she was wearing.

Joel caught her hand again and led her from the crowded dance floor, his face creased with concern. He steadied her while she sank gratefully onto a low bench, then sat down beside her. His fingers folded around her hand, and she expected to hear him say something like, “Take it easy, kiddo.”

Instead, he said, “ _If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss._ ”

And then he bent and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

Ellie’s stomach lurched and her breath caught in her throat. What. What? “What the fuck is happening, Joel?”

That’s what she meant to say. What came out was, “ _Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss._ ”

Of its own volition, her hand raised, palm toward him. _Talk to the hand, Joel_ , she thought a little hysterically. He raised his palm to hers and she shivered at the heat of it.

“ _Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?_ ” One of his eyebrows was raised, and a faint smile played around his lips, the elusive one she caught sometimes when he was amused and trying to hide it.

Wait, lips? Oh, fuck. With a jolt, the image of the comic book page came into focus in her mind. She remembered where this conversation was leading. Her cheeks flushed and her heart beat faster as she stared at his lips for a full ten seconds. Oh, god. No. This was _Joel_ , for fuck’s sake. She was absolutely not thinking about Joel’s lips. She stood up and twisted away from him, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“ _Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,_ ” she said primly, in what she hoped was a very firm tone, hoping to convey that she was not at all imagining him kissing her.

Because she totally wasn’t.

At all.

He obviously wasn’t buying it. His smile deepened. “ _O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair._ ”

He started to stand up too, but she put her hand on his shoulder, desperate not to let him near her because if she could dream about him kissing her--and this was a dream, it was obviously a dream, wasn’t it?--if her mind could betray her like that in a dream, maybe it would do the same in real life and that would be really fucking awkward, okay? Like, holy shit. No way was she letting dream Joel/Romeo kiss her, no matter how much she wanted him to.

“ _Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake_ ,” she said. _Stay down, big guy. For both our sakes._

Joel’s full smile uncurled on his bearded lips, and she was done for. He stood up slowly. “ _Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take._ ” He bent down low, his face just inches from hers. His weathered, familiar, beloved face. He murmured, loud enough for only her to hear, “ _Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged._ ” He moved his head forward and his lips touched hers in a soft kiss.

Ellie’s knees turned to water and she would have fallen if she hadn’t caught herself against the hard plane of his chest. Oh, no. Oh, wow. She could feel his skin like a furnace through the thick velvet of the doublet and her ears were buzzing because she’d forgotten to breathe.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “ _Then have my lips the sin that they have took._ ” She touched her lips with trembling fingers, not able to meet his eyes.  

She felt his finger under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his. It was Joel’s face, more familiar to her than her own, but there was something new there: a need she’d never seen, the heat of desire.

She swallowed hard.

His arm tightened around her waist. “ _Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again._ ”

This time it wasn’t soft. Joel’s mouth slanted against hers greedily and when she parted her lips under his, his tongue slid home into her mouth.

Fireworks exploded all over her body as she twined her fingers into his always too-long hair and pulled him closer, returning his kiss with bruising intensity.

She gasped as they broke apart. “You kiss by the book.”

“What’s that, kiddo?”

Ellie sat bolt upright on the couch, her heart pounding almost out of her chest. Her hair stuck to her neck in sweaty pieces, and her cheek was slimy with drool. “What?” She grimaced as she wiped her cheek and blinked her eyes blearily.

“You dreamin’ about kissin’ someone?”

“No!” Her voice was too loud, her answer too emphatic. Ellie glanced sharply at Joel, who’d laid the book aside and was now standing over her and looking down with that exasperated fondness she knew so well. And not a hint of desire.

Joel chuckled. “C’mon. Time for bed. We both got full days tomorrow.”

Ellie groaned and scrubbed at her face. “Fine,” she said sullenly.

Joel patted her on the shoulder. “'Night, baby girl.” He padded upstairs to his room, leaving her in the light of the guttering lantern.

She sat there for a long time, feeling strangely bereft. And fucking confused. But mostly glad--and a little disappointed--that he hadn’t made it to reading that hot balcony scene. That could have been really embarrassing.

**Author's Note:**

> “Living in a society where their love is taboo AU”
> 
> I got this writing prompt request from a reader many, many months ago and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it because joellie is ALREADY taboo in pretty much any society. But it got me to thinking about one of the greatest stories of taboo love ever written, and I wrote down a few notes but never got around to finishing it. It's been knocking around in my head for over a year, and I finally came back and fleshed it out a little. 
> 
> This work owes a significant debt to the "Atomic Shakespeare" episode of Moonlighting, which you can watch in all its excellence on YouTube because we live in a goddamned magical age.
> 
> Cat


End file.
